Our Dying World Volume One
by Wemoleitch
Summary: Nathaniel Warden, the author. Lauren Jones, the college student. Jacob Boothe, the washed-up family man. Riley, the homeless survivor. Zackary Bender, the Criminal. Five strangers find themselves in the beginning of the apocalypse where their instinct to survive takes them all on an unexpected journey. This is an original work, not really connected to TWD.
1. Nate 1

**OUR**

 **DYING**

 **WORLD**

 **Nate**

 **October 5th**

 **9:00pm**

" _Fuck you too_!" are his last words to Jenny before he slams his thumb down on the little, red button and ends their call. In his blind anger, Nate is too late in hitting the breaks and rolls his car over the stone barrier ahead. He bounces, hits his head on the back of his seat, and grunts from the force of his chest colliding with the steering wheel. "Shit..." He grumbles, blinking the stars out of his eyes. He mechanically climbs out of his 1987 camry into the blistering, Washington wind and sure enough, his passenger-side wheel is stuck over the barricade while the driver's side threatens to collapse over it as well, balancing wobbly on the hedge of stone. The cars on either side of his are parked so perfectly that they highlight just how catastrophic his landing was. _This is going to cost me big. I'll be lucky to drive home tonight._ Nathan grumbles under his breath as he climbs back inside and tries to back out-but the wheels refuse to budge and the engine starts to squeal and hiss like a dying dog. Nate gives up, and sits there for a while stewing in his rage.

Feeling like steam was leaking out his ears, Nathaniel Warden abandons his car and crosses the parking lot to his destination; _Marl's Grill and Tavern_. It's a local dive bar that Nate frequents every weekend, and tonight would be no different. _I'm not going to worry about my car. Fuck that shitty little tin-can anyway. Jen won't like it, but fuck her too. Tonight is my night, and I'm going to enjoy it._ There's a crowd of people standing outside the bar smoking and laughing loudly about something they're showing each-other on their phones. Nate ignores them as he walks by, though as he does, he distinctly hears one of them say, "He's acting like a zombie, what a fucking loser."

For a split second, Nate thinks they're talking about him, after-all he did just crash his car, but when he glances back, they're still huddled around their phones watching a video on youtube.

By the time Nate's inside, he's forgotten about them, his car, and his fight with Jenny; he's fixated, as he always is whenever he enters this bar, by the lovely Kendra behind the counter where a glorious mountain of bottles engulf her from behind. She's fixing one of her patron's a drink while Chef Hanz yells at her from the kitchens to hurry up. Above her the TV is playing a wrestling match between two stacked, bald men in spandex. Some disheveled-looking fellas at the counter watch the fight with beers in hand, roaring and pounding their fists on the wood. A flock of college-aged girls with heavy make-up and revealing outfits are silently hunched over their cellphones in a dark corner, judgmentally eyeing Nathan as he crosses the threshold of Marl's to join the angry men watching the fight. When Kendra notices him approaching, her smile lights up the room.

Nathan can't help but smile back, grinning from ear-to-ear like a kid again. She was simply stunning, her flowing blond hair, her bright, blue eyes, and the swell of her cleavage-all of it left Nathan feeling hornier than he's felt for Jenny in a long time. Nate saddles up at the counter and leans over it with his most charming grin to say, "Hey beautiful, gimme that thing you make that I love so much."

Kendra's eyes dart from him to the shelf below her as her smile thins out into a cute little smirk before she says, "I will if you can remember the name of it. I tell you every time, you should know by now."

" _Honey_ ," Nate says, "If I could remember the name, I would, but these precious moments with you are the last sober moments I'll have before fading away for the rest of the night in a drunken bliss. Can you really expect me to remember the name of a drink when I'm looking into those eyes of yours?"

"Then I guess I'll have to serve you something else, now won't I?" Kendra teases, cocking a hand on her waist and tilting her head a little, letting her gorgeous blond locks cascade down her shoulder. _Why can't Jen ever smile at me like that?_

"Fine, fine." Nate sighs, "Truth be told I shouldn't get too wasted tonight."

"Why's that, sugar?" Kendra asks as she cleans a mug with a clean towel, occasionally glancing around at the other patrons along the counter.

 _Maybe I shouldn't tell her I crashed the car outside and have to call a tow. It's embarrassing and right now I just want to forget about it. Forget about everything._ "No reason, just that I'm getting a little older every day and I don't want my health failing on me in a moment of crisis."

"You're still far from worrying about that," Kendra laughs, "You hardly look a day older than my baby brother."

"How old's your baby brother?"

"Twenty-one."

"Well you flatter me, Kendra. I'm twenty-nine."

Kendra's smooth lips form an O of surprise as she bats her eyes and looks him up and down as if to suddenly see him there for the first time. "No... _Twenty-nine_? A grandpa like you should be home resting with the missus then, huh? How is Jen doing these days?"

A sting of uncomfortable panic settles through him before he responds. "Jen's doing good… she's doing good… though the two of us aren't… well…" He glares down at his hands before saying, "Tell you what, pour me a shot of whiskey and keep them coming-I'll tell you all about my marital problems."

"Sounds like a deal." Kendra turns around (allowing Nate to examine the swell of her ass) and reaches for a big bottle behind her full of bronze glory. She begins to pour a small portion into a three inch glass before sliding it up to him, leaning onto the counter as well so her face is a breath away from his. He can smell the perfume in her hair over the musk of his drink. "So what's troubling you two?"

 _What's got her so curious in my affairs anyway? Is she hoping for something wrong? Maybe tonight's my night after-all._ Nate's mind wanders as he swallows his shot. The whiskey slides down his throat like hot lava, electrifying his nerves and bringing tears to his eyes. "Well… where do I even begin? You know Jen."

"Known her since we went to Westwood High. Lost touch with her after that."

"Then you know how high the pedestal she sits on is." Nate says, wagging his finger to indicate that he'd like another shot, which Kendra obliges with grace. "I've been working on this book for months and my editor, Dan Crusback, told me today it was no good. According to good ol' Dan, there's no market for the kind of angsty fiction I write. I try and explain that it's aimed toward a younger audience but I suppose that's not good enough." Nate swallows his second shot, wags his finger, and receives a third. "So me and Dan have a bit of a row and next thing you know the guy tells me he's through with me and that's that. I don't have an editor anymore. All my hard work just sitting there on pages that I don't have time to read over myself. A writer can't edit his own work, that's like-that's like blasphemy, y'know? So I go for a drive like I always do when I need to think and I guess I was gone longer than I should have because Jen starts calling me and calling me, over and over." Nate drinks, wags, receives. "When I finally answer she starts going off on me, saying Dan talked to her and claims _I_ was the one who fired _him_ and he's wanting severance for his work on my last unpublished novel as well as this current one."

"What?!" Kendra exclaims, leaning back from the counter with a look of shock and fury.

" _I know, right_?" Nate laughs numbly, swinging down his fourth… or is it his fifth drink? _Who's counting?_ "So I tell her Dan's full of shit and he can shove his severance up his poop chute... But of course, Jen doesn't believe a thing I'm saying-going on and on about how I need to control my temper-like I'm the problem. So I show her what losing my temper really looks like. We get in a big, stupid fight and… well, I hung up on her before I got here. Let me get another shot."

"Screw shots." Kendra says, putting the bottle away. "You deserve a drink of that thing you love but you can't remember the name of. Gimme a sec, hun." and she briefly closes her hand over his before walking away. Even after she's gone, Nate can still feel her touch on his skin and goosebumps slither up his forearm. _Oh man… she's so into me right now. Is this going to happen? I mean, yeah, it's got to right? She was looking at me like I was the only man in the bar just now. Either I'm better at telling stories than I thought, or she wants to jump my dirty old bones. Better play my cards right._

By the time Kendra returns, Nate is feeling pleasantly tipsy and warm in the cheeks. He grins as she hands him a tall glass full of blue, glistening liquor. A bendy straw protrudes from the cap with a little red and white umbrella bobbing along the surface. "That's my girl." Nate grins, "What's the name of this again? I swear I'll remember it this time."

"How about you just call it _Kendra's Kiss_." She winks as she says it, and Nate's cheeks burn even hotter. _Oh it's definitely happening._

Nate is about to respond with what he thinks is a smooth pick-up line when something hard shoves him on his left and he nearly spills the bright, blue drink all over himself. "What the-!" He shouts, turning to face the disturbance. There's a man sitting next him all of the sudden-a sullen looking man in a black suit and fancy green tie. His hair is disheveled with gel and there's dark circles around his eyes as if he's been awake for far too long. The man snaps his fingers at Kendra, ignoring Nate entirely, and grumbles out something indiscernible. Kendra appears taken aback, unsure of what to do. Whoever this man is, he's clearly drunk already. He reeks of booze and filth, a stark contrast to the thousand dollar business suit he wears. He gawks up at Kendra, lips parted, then says, "Didja hear me, girl? Bourbon. The bottle. Now."

"Sir, we don't serve whole bottles here... And you're clearly wasted enough already." Kendra's voice isn't the sing-song, lovely shade it was when she was speaking with Nate a few seconds ago. _No, now she sounds scared. Who the hell is this guy? What's he think he's doing-cock-blocking me like this?_

The man pulls out a wallet with his right hand, keeping his left hand hanging limply down at his side, and flashes her a hundred dollar bill. " _The bottle_." He repeats with a slur, a trail of saliva dripping from his lips, sweat pouring down his forehead. Nate notices small spots of blood along the cuff of his sleeve...

"Sir…" Kendra mutters, not even noticing the money. She's backing away from the counter slowly. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Just gimme the damn bottle, lady!" The man thunders, pounding his left hand on the counter. His fist is drenched and slick with crimson. _He's bleeding._

"Hey, man. You should go to a hospital for that." Nate says sharply, feeling his chest tighten. Perhaps it was the alcohol he'd already ingested, but something like courage was rising in his chest and making him feel like he could easily throw this guy out if it came to it. _Might make me feel better to rough him up too. Just give me an excuse._

But out of nowhere the guy starts to cry. Tears the size of golf balls rain down his cheeks as he begs once more, "Please j-just give me the fucking bottle! I'll give you all that I have."

"Sir, you're bleeding. I'm going to call the hospital and have someone take you there." Kendra says, hastily pulling out her phone.

"NO! No… don't…" The man sniffs and wipes his eyes, leaving a smear of blood across his nose. "It won't matter. Nothing matters anymore. None of you… none of you get it… but you will." He climbs off the bar stool and stumbles off. Everyone in the bar watches him go. Not a word is spoken until the door chimes and he disappears into the cold night...

Even though he's gone, the stranger's presence is still felt. Nate looks at Kendra and she's visibly distraught, shaking as she speaks with an officer on her phone about what just happened. Nathan drinks his Kendra's Kiss in solemn silence, wondering what the hell was wrong with that guy. Something about what he said at the end there made him feel sick. When Kendra is done on the phone, she tells Chef Hanz she's going out for a smoke break to calm down. Nate follows her outside and joins her near the alley where the dumpsters are. The wail of sirens seem to go on and on forever in the distance somewhere… She lights a cigarette and he lights one of his own.

"You gonna be ok to work the rest of your shift?" Nate asks her.

"Yeah." Kendra nods, "It's just… we get a few crazies from time to time in here… drunk men looking for more than they can handle. Tough men who think they can boss a girl around… but I've never had one like that before. Did you see how much blood was coming out of his hand? I've never…"

"Yeah… that was…" Nate struggles to find the right words and instead takes a puff of his Camel.

"Hanz can clean that blood off the counter-no way in hell I am. Last thing I need is AIDS or some bullshit."

"I don't blame you there." Nate smirks, "You sure you're alright? Want me to drive you home?" The words come out before he can stop them, and he mentally kicks himself. _You can't drive her home, genius. You're car is totaled._

To his relief she just smiles at him and shakes her head. "No, I'll be alright... My boyfriend will pick me up at three."

There it was. _She has a boyfriend…_ Nate glares down at the ground and smokes his smoke, falling into a fit of dour silence again. _She has a boyfriend… and I have a wife. What was I thinking, anyway? I'm not some stud coming in off the street to sweep this damsel off her feet. I'm just an angry, old loser who can't get anything published or get his wife to smile at him anymore. I must be delusional for thinking otherwise..._

They finish their cigarettes and head back in. Nate keeps a healthy distance from Kendra this time and orders a grilled steak from her with seasoned fries to go with it. He tries to avoid talking with Kendra and it's made easier as more and more patrons enter the bar throughout the night. A group of young men come in and start playing pool, hooting and hollering loudly in the corner. Some grizzled old-timers surround the bar, speaking in soft voices as they observe the wrestling match on the t.v. which eventually ends causing an uproar of disappointment and cheers. Nate orders another few shots of whiskey, his head in the clouds, and as he finishes his dinner and slumbers off to the bathroom, the bars spins like he's in a dream. He passes underneath a strange clock mounted on the wall in the shape of a cartoon black cat with wide, taunting eyes watching him. It's not until he stumbles through the bathroom stalls when he realizes just how drunk he is.

His phone rings while he empties his bladder. Jenny's face is on the screen; dark hair, beady eyes, and a long nose over a smile he hasn't witnessed in years. Nate's thumb hovers over the green "answer" button… before forcefully pressing the red button instead.

He expects her to call again… but she doesn't.

As Nathan stands up, his stomach lurches. He keels over the toilet and vomits the steak, fries, and all of Kendra's blue kiss into the bowl. He gasps for air, gripping a painful stitch in his sides as more and more waste tumbles out of his mouth. _Shit… I feel… fuck… this…_ Nate slumps to the ground, clutching the toilet bowl for purchase like a drowning man. _I better just sit here a while until I feel good enough to stand… just… just gonna sit here and let my eyes rest a bit..._


	2. Lauren 1

**Lauren**

 **October 5th**

 **11:00pm**

"The cackle of blue fire surrounds your party, encircling the four of you, licking heat off your faces. ' _I have you now_!' the Lich King growls, his voice sounding like the rattle of chains."

"I ready my bow!" announces Billy nervously, gripping his 20 sided dice between his sausage fingers. A bead of sweat mingles with his long, sandy hair and his usual beady eyes are wide with anticipation.

"I ready my hammer as well!" shouts David with a confident smirk, his arms crossed as he leans back in his chair, flexing his muscles but trying to make it look natural. _The boys might not be able to tell, but I can._

"I assume the rest of you ready your weapons as well, yes?" Kyle asks. Andrew nods but Lauren flips through her character sheet with fervor, her heart hammering in her chest.

 _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ "I don't have my weapon anymore!" She cries, "I lost my warhammer back in the dungeons of Dunefell!"

"Oh shit, that's right!" Kyle smirks, not hiding his delight. "Well, as the healer you probably won't need it anyway-ahem… The Lich King's eyes glow with bright, hot light as he lifts his skeletal arms up in the air and begins to recite an ancient spell. If any of you can speak Undead, you will understand what spell he's about to cast."

All four players frantically scan through their sheets. "I can't!" Andrew whines, taking a puff from his vape pen.

"Neither can I." David admits with a shrug, his cute smile curling so that his dimples pop, "Who cares? Let's just kill this guy."

"I can!" Lauren yells, "I learned how to speak Undead when I was a cleric-in-training! I figured it would come in handy since a lot of my spells can manipulate the undead and stuff." David winks at her and she grins back.

Kyle straightens his glasses, peering down behind the wide Dungeon Master's screen at something the rest of them couldn't see. "Alright, Lauren-I mean, Lauriel, you are the only one who understands that the Lich King is reciting a spell to raise the undead. Before I have all of you roll initiative, I will allow you one preemptive action!"

"Okay, uh, I shout to the rest of my party, 'Be on guard! He's going to raise an army of zombies around us!"

"Is that all you do?" asks Kyle with a sharp stare from behind his round glasses.

"No-I realize I don't have my hammer so I prepare my spell, _Turn Undead!_ Once I see the first few skeletons raise up, I'm going to cast it so that instead of attacking us they will flee into the blue flames!"

" _Take a point of inspiration_!" Kyle cries and Lauren pumps her fists. "Don't get too excited. Turn Undead only affects a certain amount of undead depending on your level… The Lich King finishes his spell… and twenty skeletal soldiers begin crawling out from the cold, hard ground, surrounding you within the circle of flames. Lauriel casts her spell with the reflex only an elf could have!"

Lauren is ready, and rolls her twenty-sided die across the table. Everyone watches with anticipation as it lands on sixteen. She adds her Wisdom modifier to the roll, and it's a twenty.

"Good enough!" Kyle decrees. "Four of the undead turn heel and flee into the flames! As soon as the blue fire touches their bones they dissolve into a black, eerie mist that hovers in the air. You've successfully destroyed four of them, but sixteen remain-not to mention the Lich King himself... I will now have you all roll for initiative!"

Tension follows as each of them roll their die. Not a word is spoken until all four dice come to a halt on their fated numbers. The battle that ensues is long, and one of the hardest they've encountered thus far. The soda they drink is empty before even half of the undead are cleared, and the nachos that once filled a platter in the center of their table has become a haphazard pile of pieces. For weeks now they played Dungeons and Dragons every night, but never has the game been this intense. Outside a low, deep rumbling of thunder accompanies a bright flash of lightning that illuminates the dimly lit living room they're in through its narrow windows. Lauren is on the edge of her seat by the time the last zombie crumbles. All that's left is the Lich King, who has been hovering over the battlefield in a seemingly impenetrable bubble of magic. None of her spells that specialize against the undead have worked on it, and almost all of the party is barely clinging onto life.

"This might be it for us, gang." David sighs, his confident smirk a distant memory as he tries to find something in his character sheet that might help defeat their foe.

"We've come so far, we can't die here!" Billy shrilly pouts, his hands running through his hair as if lice plagued him. "Lauren, are you sure you don't have a spell that can penetrate his shield?"

"I've tried everything!" Lauren yells, "It's just too strong-or Kyle is cheating!"

"Hey-don't blame me, the Lich King is one of the strongest creatures in the monster manual." Kyle laughs maniacally, "Andrew, it's your turn."

Andrew is sitting with his hands folded, his skeptical eyes skimming the table at their figurines. Lauren can almost feel his mind racing with desperation. Finally Andrew sighs and says, "I look at the rest of the party and say, 'it was nice knowing y'all' before I attempt to leap over the blue flames and flee."

"WHAT!?" Lauren, David, and Billy all shout in anger.

" _What_!?" Andrew yells back, "This fight is hopeless! I'm not going to die for some stupid princess's lost gold."

"It's more than just the gold! The Lich King is threatening to destroy all of Tyrillia! We have to stop him!" David roars, his face red with rage. "You can't just-just abandon us in our hour of need!"

Andrew just shrugs. "Not my problem. I'm chaotic neutral, remember? I'll just hide underground with the rest of the dwarves and wait until the world dies off. Hell, maybe I'll be king of the new world."

"I'll need you to make an acrobatics check to make it over the blue flames." Kyle sighs, "and I'm giving you disadvantage since, well, you're a dwarf and these flames are at least twelve feet high."

"Fair enough." Andrew rolls the die… and his expression sinks with dismay. "Well, that's a three…"

"Serves you right, dickhead." David chuckles.

"Andrew-I mean-Hoggard, you attempt to flee and leap over the flames, but your foot catches a rock and instead you trip and fall straight into them…" Kyles rolls what sounds like three die behind his screen and winces. "Ouch. You take twelve damage and are knocked prone."

"Pfft. Forget prone. I'm unconscious now..." Andrew grimaces.

"Lauriel, it's your turn." says their Dungeon Master.

Lauren is ready, and says, "I go to revive Hoggard!"

"Babe, no!" David shakes his head when he says this, his wide eyes bearing into her's. "We need you to focus fire on the Lich!"

"But Hoggard is down! He's our companion!" Lauren argues, "I can't just let him burn up in the fire like french toast."

"I'm still going to flee if you revive me." Andrew warns her.

"That's your choice. I've made mine." Lauren says sternly, "I'm going to roll medicine." She does… and it's a nine.

"Unfortunately that's not gonna do it." Kyle grins, "And it's the Lich King's turn. He turns his attention on Lauriel who is busy attempting to revive Hoggard. A bright, green light glows between his claws before he begins to launch a necrotic beam on you from above. It will have advantage on this roll because you are distracted."

"Wait!" David yells, "I readied my action last turn to defend a party member from an attack-I use that now to jump in the way of the blast…"

"David, no!" screams Lauren in horror.

"But you'll die! You're the strongest in the party!" Billy cries, throwing his die up in the air out of sheer panic.

David just smiles at Lauren. "I gotta do it. She's my boo."

"Aww, how sweet." Kyle says, "The necrotic beam hits Aenel as he leaps in front of the blast… I rolled a nat 20…"

"Shit. We're all sooo dead now." Billy moans.

Lauren hardly hears them. She just wants to reach across the table and kiss David on the lips, but resists the temptation.

"David-I mean, Aenel, you take… one-hundred and sixty-five damage…"

"That's more than double the amount of health I have" David laughs. "Shit, doesn't that mean…?"

Kyle clears his throat… "All of you witness Aenel scream in pain before burning up in a fiery, green light-dissolving into a liquid mass of putrid waste at Lauriel's feet…"

"Holy shit!" Andrew gawks, "That's… you really died, David!"

"I guess so." David shrugs. Lauren can't help herself, she stands up and goes to him, flinging her arms around him and planting a huge, wet smooch on his cheek. He beams at her while the others all feign disgust. David just whispers, "Worth it."

"How romantic. You realize your character is, like, dead dead. No coming back." Kyle smirks, appearing satisfied for finally being able to kill off one of the party. A rumble of thunder rolls along outside at his words, followed by the distant blare of police sirens. "I think I'll end the game there for tonight-always best to end on a cliffhanger."

"Doesn't matter, we're all so screwed." Andrew laughs, getting up and stretching.

Lauren is glad it's over for now. _I have a lot of sleep I need to catch up on, and tomorrow I have to study all day._ "Goodnight gang. David, you gonna stay up with the boys or…?"

"Nah, I'll come too." David says, helping Kyle and Billy clean up the dishes and game pieces. "Just gimme a few, I'll see yah in there, babe."

"Goodnight Laur." Billy waves with a bashful smile.

"Night guys." Lauren heads down the hall. Andrew and Kyle's rooms are on the left, Billy's and the bathroom on the right, and her room she shared with David was at the very end. She inhales the stench of marijuana emanating from Andrew's room like she always does when going down this hallway and winces, despising the smell. Once inside her room she closes the door and begins to undress into her underwear, tossing her shirt and shorts into her hamper before tugging on a pair of pink and yellow pajama bottoms as well as one of David's black tank-tops. Then she takes her comb from the desk beside her bed and combs her long, hazelnut hair; all the while thinking about the game they just played and how heroic David was for sacrificing himself to save her. _It's just a silly game but still, he's played that character for so long now it's gotta be a little sad for him… nobody likes losing a character they've invested in for so long. I'd be devastated if something happened to Lauriel. She's like a part of me… man, listen to you, Lauren. Such a fucking nerd._

As good as his word, David comes into the room a few minutes later and plops down on the bed with a heavy sigh. "What a night. I can't believe it."

Lauren smirks and curls her arms around his broad shoulders from behind him in a warm embrace. She plants soft kisses up his neck, smelling remnants of shampoo in his hair. David takes one of her slender hands in his own and caresses her knuckles with his thumb. She whispers in his ear, "Want me to make it up to you?"

"I won't say no to that, m'lady." David grins, undoing the belt from his jeans in a hurry, "I knew throwing myself in front of a necrotic beam would turn you on."

"Oh you just know me so well."

He leans his head back and they lock lips.

The rain outside has intensified into a heavy storm, beating the windows heavily while lightning lights up the black sky. It's midnight by the time they are finished smashing, and David is snoring heavily at her side with most of the blanket tucked around him. Lauren is on her side, back to him, watching the storm rage on and on through the window. Without her glasses on, it was all just a blur. She envies her boyfriend's ability to sleep through anything, and as she lies there trying to keep her eyes closed, her mind races. Whenever it storms like this, Lauren's anxiety always starts to rear its ugly head. She finds herself breathing heavily and her heart beating faster and faster until it becomes hard to breath at all. Her eyes snap open as lightning claps. She reaches for her desk and pulls open the drawer, shuffling around in a state of unease. Her nails trace across the lid of what she's searching for and quickly withdraws it, stuffing the little plastic utility into her lips and pressing down on the button. The inhaler puffs out a mist that fills her lungs and she takes a huge gulp of fresh air, followed by a second puff… then a third. _That's better…_

Laurens glances over her shoulder at David to make sure she didn't wake him up before returning her inhaler to the desk. She lifts her knees up to her belly and wraps her arms around them, nestling her face into the pillow. _Just ignore the storm. Think about law. Go over the rules so you don't fail the test on Wednesday. If I'm ever going to become a lawyer, I gotta manage my sleep schedule better. My parents would be appalled if they knew I was staying up every night playing games… but I'm nineteen now. I'm finally out from under their roof. I have every right to do what I want. Before I moved in here with David and his friends, I'd never even had sex. My life is changing so fast… Just go to sleep, Lauren._

And so she does. But the storm outside is wide awake and never relents...


	3. Jacob 1

**Jacob**

 **October 5th**

 **9:30pm**

" _-I'm going off the rails on a crazy tray-hayne_!"

Jacob's fingers drum along the steering wheel in tune with the radio as he turns his truck into his parent's driveway. The giant hedge that divided their house from the neighbors is just as even and pruned as when Jacob had cut it over a month ago, which was satisfying to see. He knew Mom always loved it when her yard was perfect. Jacob turns off the engine which puts an end to Ozzy's epic music blasting on the radio and unbuckles his seatbelt, climbing out of his Toyota with a grim expression on his face. He always feels uncomfortable the moments leading up to when he knocked on that front door. Would it be tired and downtrodden Mom who answered it? Would it be Kirsten, dressed like she'd been manufactured at a Hot Topic? Or would it be his deadbeat, alcoholic, son-of-a-bitch Dad?

"Alright kiddo," Jacob says as he opens the back door of his truck with a noisy, metallic groan, reaches inside, and unbuckles Zoe from her car-seat. The four-year old pouts as he lifts her up with ease. She struggles and fights back with tiny fists beating against him, but her feverish smacks might as well be feathers tickling his broad, muscular shoulders. "Hey-Hey, Zoe! C'mon, cut it out."

"I don't wanna go!" Zoe moans, tears swelling up in her eyes as he pulls her into his chest and closes the door. "Take me with you, Jakey!"

"I wish I could, you know.. But your birthday's over now and it's waaay past your bedtime. Mom will have a fit."

"I don't caaare! I wanna stay with Jakeeey!" Zoe cries, kicking fruitlessly but his massive arm is like a steel brace, trapping her to him effortlessly.

Jacob can't help but grin as he hoists her up over his head with one hand (a move that always terrifies and excites Zoe) and his little sister screams with delight. " _Hello-copper! Hello-copper! Fly! Fly! Fly!_ " He flies her all the way up the garden path to the front door before setting her down on her feet. As he lifts his fist up to knock on the door, Jacob pauses a second to listen. Inside he can hear his father shouting, there's no mistaking that shout… he's heard it a thousand times. Zoe hears it too, and the joy in her eyes snuffs out.

 _I really wish I could take Zoe home with me tonight but I have to be at work soon… Kirsten better be here so Zoe has someone to tuck her in, otherwise I'm going to be late again._ Jacob exhales a deep breath and raps his knuckles on the door… but his dad's shouting doesn't stop, and the longer he stands there, he realizes Mom is arguing back with him, but her voice pales in comparison to the deep, booming thunder of Dad's. " _-Don't start with me, Mel! I work too damn hard to put up with this fucking shit every day! Just fetch me some damn aspirin, I'll be fine!"_ It's as he's standing here with Zoe, listening to their parents fight, that a light rain begins to fall from above… Jacob knocks again, louder this time, getting impatient.

"They won't hear you." says a familiar voice by the hedges making Jacob jump out of his skin. He turns and sees Kirsten leaning up against the garage door with a cigarette between her fingers. The pink tips of her black bangs drape over her left eye, while her right eye glares at him, a sour expression on her face. She's dressed like she always is, in black leather from neck to toe. Even in the dark, Jacob can make out at least six different belts strapped around her waist.

Jacob doesn't say anything at first, but he does approach her with his arms crossed. When he reaches her, Kirsten glares up at him defiantly and lifts her smoke up-but before the filter can reach her black lips, Jacob's hand slaps it from her grasp with the reflexes of a cat. The Marlboro goes flying off into the lawn. "I told you to quit smoking."

"Free country." Kirsten argues, deadpan.

"I don't give a damn. If Dad caught you doing that-"

"Like _I_ give a shit what _he_ thinks." Kirsten mutters resentfully, "Not that'd he'd even care."

"Don't give me that attitude, Kirsten. I won't let you kill yourself with cancer like grandma did."

"You tell Mom that too? She smokes three packs a day, y'know. Where'd you think I stole that one from?"

Jacob grimaces uncomfortably. "Mom is capable of making her own decisions. You're still a fucking kid, and what kind of a brother would I be if I let you make the same mistakes she makes?"

Kirsten pushes herself off the garage door and storms off into the backyard. Jacob watches her go, feeling a strange sense of regret even though he knew he'd done the right thing... He looks down at Zoe who is playfully stamping the half-lit cigarette out with her shoe to stop the grass from catching fire, and he sweeps her up in his arms again. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's go around back and see if we can get you to bed."

They travel down the side of the house, the hedges rustling under the patter of rain, until they make it to the backyard. Jacob spots Kirsten sliding inside between the glass door and into the kitchen. From here, Jacob witnesses his mom and dad. Dad is at the table eating dinner while Mom has her back to him, hunched over the kitchen counter, her hand cocked up holding a smoking cigarette. She's shaking her head while Dad is eating a hotdog with one hand, and the other is clutching a red can of beer, a makeshift bandage of toilet-paper tied around his fist leaking spots of red blood onto the table. _Did Dad get in a fight at work again? Great. Last time his hand was bleeding like that, he'd punched his boss in the nose._

Jacob steps through the glass, his footsteps announcing his presence to them. Mom turns and looks at him, her eyes glistening with tears. She looked like she was beautiful once, but age and depression had sunk her battleship a long time ago. Dad took one baleful glance up at Jacob before snorting and returning his attention onto his hotdog. "I'm back." Jacob says, more to his mom than to his dad, and lets Zoe go. The four year old runs past their dad and follows Kirsten into the dim hall, asking her older sister to read her a story before bed.

"Oh good, I was starting to worry." Mom sighs, puffing on her Marlboro. "How was your day with her? She didn't give you too much trouble, did she?"

"No trouble at all, actually. Zoe's an angel." Jacob grins, "We went to the park with some of her friends then I took them to go see the new Pokemon movie. I got her an ice cream cake and we had Papa Murphey's and-"

"You can _afford_ all that?" Dad interrupts with a grunt, still stuffing the hotdog down his gullet.

Jacob eyes him down, deciding not to answer that, and returns attention to his mom. "Anyway, yeah, it was a great day. Wish I could keep her all night but I gotta go to work an hour ago."

"Hmph! _Work_ , is that what you call it there?" Dad scoffs, "In my day you couldn't call it work until you came home with calluses on all your fingers and toes."

"Well it's a paying job, so…" Jacob mutters, refusing to even look at his dad as he spoke. He knew if he did, Dad would see that as a dare. "Anyway, I better-"

"How much they pay you to stand around all night long and mop floors?" Dad asks, smacking his lips together as crumbles of bread, ketchup and weiner tumbles down onto his bulging belly. "Nine dollars an hour?"

"It's eleven, Dad. I've told you a hundred times…" Jacob grumbles, still refusing to look at him.

"Hah. Eleven dollars an hour. That ain't no job, kid. You need to get a _man's_ job. I mean, fuck, just look at you-you could be a fucking body-builder but instead you're helping old timers fill up their gas tanks."

"Oh, stop that, Roy!" Mom scolds him, her voice sounding as disheveled as she looks. "It's only a temporary job until he gets his band together again, isn't that right, Jake?"

"Yeah, Mom. That's the plan." Jacob sighs, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. "Anyway, I really should get going. Tell Zoe I love her and I'll see her on Monday when I take her to pre-school." He turns to leave, determined to escape his father's scrutiny before he could utter another word. _Wishful thinking._

"I guess I'm just wondering when our son is going to do something with his life. You can't expect him and his loser friends to make anything of themselves with a band called… hell, what were they called again? The Dipshit Pixies?"

" _Particles of Paranoia_ , Dad." Jacob mutters, stopping at the glass door, his fists balling up. _Just leave. Ignore him. Just go out to your truck and-_

"Gimme a break. You should get a job in construction like me-I'd teach you a thing or two about-"

"-about punching your boss in the face?" Jacob interrupts, losing his cool.

His mother gasps between her cigarette. Dad just laughs. "I'd punch that fucker again, if I could."

"Who'd you hit this time, Dad?" Jacob asks angrily, glancing down at his dad's bandaged fist.

"Nobody who didn't deserve it." Dad growls, "Like I was just explaining to your mom, I was coming home from work when this dirty bum of a shitstick comes at me. Tries to mug me or something. Didn't say a word, he just put his hands on me-so I socked him in the teeth. Scraped my knuckles good but I sent the fucker on his ass. Nothing to kick up a storm about, the cops don't care if you beat up the homeless losers around here, hell, they'd probably give me a medal of honor." He says it all like he's proud of it, but Jacob feels only contempt and disgust toward him. "Speaking of which, Mel, you gonna give me some aspirin or am I gonna have to get it myself?"

"See you guys later." Jacob grunts, exiting into the fresh night air before he had to listen to another word.

The rain is falling heavier now. By the time he makes it back to his truck, his long, curly red hair clings to his ears and gets in his eyes. He wipes his bangs out of his face and revs up the engine. _Stupid. I should've just left right away._ The radio comes on again, this time blasting Dream Theater instead of Ozzy. _What does he know, anyway? That guy can't hold a job for more than a few months. I bet he really did beat up a homeless guy, though it probably didn't go down like he said. Fucking asshole._

He speeds off out of their neighborhood and onto a main road, heading south toward the interstate. Trees and houses and apartments pass him by, all the while Jacob tries to distance his mind from his father's nagging, judgemental voice-but even when Metallica comes on the air, he can't hear anything else. _Calling my friends losers like that when he doesn't even know them. I'll show him,... Someday, when Particles of Paranoia is a huge success-I'll throw all my money in his face and show him he was wrong. Then I'll put him in a retirement home, one far away from Mom. Just a few more years, that's all it'll take._ He hits several traffic jams on his way to work, rows of cars lined up for miles, honking their horns in frustration. Jacob takes the back roads to avoid some, but others prove more troublesome. It's almost eleven by the time he rolls into the Gas and Go's parking lot. _I was supposed to start at ten. Deb's gonna give me shit, but fuck it. She's nowhere near as annoying as Dad._

The Gas station is on the outskirts of Westwood, leading up to the highway going toward Seattle. A dense, black forest surrounds the station and road on all sides. Jacob eyes the highway with a dark look, wondering how there could be so many cars jammed up back in the city when the highway itself is practically clear. Occasionally he sees a pair of headlights driving down either direction, but it's strangely desolate compared to what he just went through. Jacob shrugs, grabs his backpack, and heads inside to face the music.


End file.
